


All the Way

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coulson is a bit of an awkward teenager, Coulson is a blushing virgin zombie, Coulson is head over heels for Skye, Cunnilingus, Dom Skye, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Skye is the most beautiful thing Coulson has ever seen, Submissive Coulson, but it got so full of feels, porn with too many feels, sexy uses of Skye's powers, this was supposed to be silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye realizes that Coulson is a technical virgin in his zombie-ness. She likes that idea. Coulson goes along with it because he likes *her.*</p>
<p>(Inspired by various Tumblr conversations about virginity and Skye's underwear and how Skye could remove Coulson's belt and the general awesomeness of Skoulson fandom.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Way

His confession makes her stop kissing him, which is the first indication that he shouldn’t have said it. It frustrates him that she has to make a big deal out of it, though, given that he’s sure she already knew.

“Not at all? Like, even when you had all that time off? Or when you and Reyes…”

He makes a _gross_ face at her, and she holds up her hands in apology.

“Not at all,” he clarifies. “You’re the first person I’ve so much as kissed.”

“That makes this a pretty big deal, Coulson.”

He rolls his eyes in lieu of a response.

“No, it is, though. You only get to have a first time once.”

“Which I did. When I was seventeen.”

“But that was in your first life. You’re, like, _literally_ born again.”

She waggles her eyebrows at him, hand resting on his bared scar, and he groans in exasperation.

“ _Skye_ , that’s enough.”

He tries to roll away from her, but she straddles his hips, holding him in place.

“I’ll be gentle,” she promises, eyes dancing as her hands slide down his naked chest. Her gloves — new ones that help her focus her powers instead of dampen — cover about half of her palms and leave her fingers bare, so that he feels an alternating pattern of soft skin and scratchy fabric down to his belly. It makes him twitch and shudder underneath her.

His shirt has been the only casualty of their kissing on his bed so far, so when his hands land on her hips, they hit denim instead of skin. It’s sort of disappointing.

“I’ll make it good for you.”

She grinds down against his cock, hard underneath her, and Coulson grunts at the pressure.

“Skye —”

It’s her palms sliding further down his belly, tapping along the plane under his belly button, that silences him. Her fingernails trace light, ticklish paths to his sides and then down to feel out the definition of his abdominal muscles.

Coulson hisses under her touch, arching involuntarily against her fingertips.

She’s never seen him undressed like this before, and it makes him nervous, unable to fully relax. It’s stupid because he knows he’s attractive — and he specifically knows that _she_ finds him attractive — but this thing between them is still so brand new. He can’t help the nerves, the desire to please her, the need for her to approve of him.

So far, most of their relationship has happened in a few intense phone calls from half a world away — phone calls which were far from innocent, which definitely started then down this path. But in the few days since she’s returned and everything has settled into something resembling a new normal, they’ve had time to do little more than gaze at each other and manage a few fumbled kisses in his office. Going further — to this place that they’ve discussed, to this place that it feels like they’ve been working towards for over two years now — it’s scary.

“You’re so sexy,” she half-whispers as her thumbs run along the cut of muscle just above his hips.

He’s even gotten to the point where he’s comfortable enough with his scar — the one part of his body that he’s not sure he can ever like — to feel like it’s true.

(Skye had spent several minutes touching it as she stripped off his shirt, telling him how she felt like it connected them. It’s what spurred his — possibly foolish — confession that he hasn’t done any of _this_ since before.)

“I knew you were sexy, but I never realized you were _this_ sexy.”

It makes him blush — he’s not used to that kind of praise, but he likes it _a lot._

“Sexy _and_ modest.” She laughs, and then she leans down to kiss him. “Stereotypical blushing virgin.”

He frowns at her, as pointedly as he can, but he can’t stop himself from kissing back.

She’s the one that breaks the kiss, and it’s so she can look down at him thoughtfully

“Tell me about your first time?”

Unlike all the jokes she’s made, this is a sincere request, and Coulson swallows as he searches for the right words.

“Lynette Pearson. She was home from college and got a summer job at the grocery store where I worked.”

“Older woman?”

“Hmm,” he agrees. “A few years older. She would sneak me into clubs. I thought she was _so_ cool.”

She smiles down at him, like she’s charmed by the thought of his seventeen year old self being bad.

“And was it good? Your first time with her?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost noncommittal. “I don’t think first times are ever that good. But she taught me what to do, how to make it good for her.”

“Yeah, okay,” she frowns at him, “but was it good _for you_?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Coulson tells her, suddenly feeling _too_ exposed. He’s gotten better at this — the sharing stuff, the sharing _with her_ — but it’s still frightening at times. It’s like she understands, though, because she leans down over him, plastering herself to his chest, so he’s covered in a warm blanket of _Skye_.

It feels good — safe, warm — and he relaxes a bit.

“I guess you sort of answered already,” Skye tells him. And she’s half-frowning at him, like she’s disappointed in that answer.

“I figure men always enjoy sex, so the way to tell if it was good is whether _she_ enjoyed it.”

She kind of laughs — not cruelly or mockingly, but like she finds him adorable, like she has so much to teach him.

“You’re mistaking enjoyment for _coming_ Coulson.”

“What kind of enjoyment are you talking about then?”

“Your first time should be special,” she tells him in a wistful voice that makes it too obvious that she’s not speaking from experience, but rather from her own unfulfilled desires.

He wishes he didn’t know her so well, wishes he didn’t understand this part of her so well, because it hurts to hear what she isn’t saying.

“It should be with someone who makes you feel like the most amazing person in the world,” she continues.

“Then it’s a good thing it’s with you,” Coulson offers because how can he not — how can he _not_ give her this?

Skye smiles, this face-splitting ear-to-ear smile like he’s just made a fantasy come true, but she masters it quickly, takes it down to a more playful grin as she rises up over him again.

“So,” he swallows as he looks up at her, “since you’re the experienced one here, how do we start?”

Coulson relaxes backwards and lets her run her hands down his chest again, enjoying the faint scratch of fabric and soft slide of skin on skin.

“We find out what you like.”

She raises her eyebrow at him, like she’s expecting him to object.

He definitely does not, though, and she grins again before leaning down to his ear.

“I already know you like this,” she whispers against his earlobe, making him shiver almost violently. He can feel his whole torso break out in goosebumps, feel his nipples get harder under the warmth of her chest pressed to his.

“Yes,” he tries to answer, but it comes out more like a moan.

“You liked the phone sex, right?”

He doesn’t even bother answering because _of course_ he liked the phone sex.

“You liked my voice in your ear. You liked touching yourself while I talked to you.”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“We’ll do more of that later,” she promises, and he loves this side of her — this side that’s in charge and ready to take what she wants — not because she’ll enjoy it but because _he_ will. “Right now, I want to touch you.”

She proceeds to kiss a trail down his neck, until she’s at his shoulder and he’s writhing underneath her. Skye sort of laughs — not amusement, but pleasure — and runs her nose up the other side of his neck to nip at his other earlobe.

“Skye.” Coulson sighs her name and twists his neck, eagerly presenting more of the surface to her lips. “I like that,” he murmurs, unnecessarily, but it makes her smile against his skin, so he can feel the press of her teeth.

Her mouth drifts lower, across his chest, until her tongue is lapping at his left nipple. It feels incredible, and then her teeth scrape across the hard nub and the sensation shoots through his body.

“ _Fuck_ , Skye.”

His cock throbs in his slacks, and he bucks his hips up against her, grinding into the warmth between her thighs. She rocks her hips against him and licks a wet trail to his right nipple, where she again bites down — soft enough that it doesn’t hurt, but hard enough that he can feel it down his spine.

He’s left cold when she pulls back, and Coulson frowns as his eyes pop open to see her looking down at him with a pleased smile.

“You like that,” she informs him, making him laugh underneath her.

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Yeah, but you _really_ like that.”

“Hmm,” he agrees.

And then her mouth is back on his chest, her tongue tracing a soft line down to his belly.

He groans in disappointment when she slides her whole body further down, taking away the pressure on his cock, but her mouth continues a trail downwards.

Skye takes her time as she kisses and licks across his abdominals, detouring to the side to lick down the groove along his hip until her tongue is playing under the edge of his belt.

His breath comes in short, hard gasps as Skye’s hand moves to his belt and her palm hovers over the buckle.

She pauses there and meets his eyes.

“You trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Even with —” She raises her gloved hand slightly and wiggles her fingers.

“Of course.”

He means it with every fiber of his being because he knows, more than anything else, that Skye would never do something that she thought might hurt him. He can see the moment that Skye decides to believe him, and then he feels vibrations against his lower belly. They barely touch him — he feels it more through his belt than against his skin — and he sits up enough to look down at watch as his belt buckle falls apart under Skye’s hand.

“I hope you weren’t too attached to that,” she offers. And she’s trying to play it off as humorous, to minimize the extent of her accomplishment. The truth is, though, that it’s huge — the fine micro-control, the targeting.

He wants to say something — to praise her, to tell her how remarkable she is — but he can’t find words.

Instead, he grips her by the back of her neck and tugs her up into a kiss.

“That was so hot,” he mumbles against her mouth. He hopes he’s giving her what she needs when he praises her abilities, when he tells her how amazing they are, but if he has serious doubts, they’re assuaged by the way she kisses him desperately.

When she pulls away, it’s just far enough to speak, so he can still brush his lips up against hers easily.

“You’re gonna get really distracted if you come out in the field with me, huh?”

He puffs out a laugh and kisses her again.

“You’ll have to do lots of demonstrations before we do.”

Skye pulls back and grins down at him.

“You just want to watch me break stuff.”

“Yes,” he admits freely and runs his hands down her torso, feeling out the shape of her body under her clothes. When he makes to tug her back against him, though, Skye grips his hands and pushes them down on either side of his head.

“We’re exploring what _you_ like, remember?”

“I like touching you,” Coulson counters, though he makes no move to free his hands from her grip.

Skye smiles down at him and leaves a soft kiss against his lips, pulling back before he has a chance to respond, and then slides down his body.

She makes quick work of tugging his ruined belt out of the loops and then getting his slacks and boxers half-way down his hips. Before she exposes his cock, though, she pauses.

“I’m rushing.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “But I want to take my time with you.”

“Not too much time,” he pleads, thrusting his hips up against nothing but unable to stop seeking friction.

“No, not _too_ much time,” she agrees.

Skye’s lips land low on his belly, just above where the elastic of his boxers barely covers his cock, and he groans at her hot breath washing over his skin.

“ _Skye_.”

And then she stretches his boxers up and over, freeing his erection so that it brushes her cheek.

He wants to be in her mouth more than he can remember ever wanting _anything_ , and everything seems to go still as Skye pulls his boxers down as far as the top of his thighs and then just looks.

“Skye,” he whimpers her name again, and he can’t stop his hips from pressing needy circles into the air, though it gets him nothing.

“You remember on the phone —”

“ _Yes,_ ” he grunts because that was the best part of one of the best nights of his life; Skye’s voice walking him through how she would lick his cock from base to tip, suck him deep, drive him _wild_.

It takes a lot of willpower to keep his hands by his head, to avoid reaching down to touch her, to guide her mouth to him. A warm stream of air brushes the head of his cock, makes him shudder uncontrollably, and then Skye pulls back.

“Skye,” he groans her name in disappointment, only to feel her tug his slacks and boxers down and off his legs, along with his socks.

Being naked makes him weirdly nervous again. And it’s not that he’s uncomfortable with his body, it’s just that it’s _Skye_. It’s Skye whose last lover was nearly twenty years his junior, it’s Skye who is focused so entirely on him, it’s Skye who is probably the best person he’s ever known.

“Coulson,” she calls his name, calls him out of his weird fugue state of self-doubt. “Hi.”

Her hands trace slow trails up each leg, fingers drawing ever closer to his cock, which surges back to fully erect.

Once her hands are pressed to his upper thighs, she pushes his legs further apart and then situates herself between his thighs, her mouth once again perched over his cock.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Skye,” Coulson breathes. He clenches and unclenches his hands, still resting next to his head, and is almost unprepared for the sensation when her tongue drags across the tip of his cock, just a tiny little lap against the head.

It’s almost too much, though, and he feels the familiar pulse of almost-orgasm start behind his balls.

“Stop,” he grunts, only to feel her tongue land on the head of his cock again, taking a slow circle around it. He pulses under her tongue again, and he’s not sure he can hold off orgasm. “God, _Skye_ , you have to stop.”

“Mmm,” she sort of hums at him, this sensual sound like she’s enjoying the brief taste she got, and he feels it like she’s touching him with her voice. “I don’t think I should stop.”

“Skye,” he sort of wimpers. “I can’t —”

“I know.” She smiles and drops a soft kiss near the juncture of his inner thigh, letting her hair brush softly across his lower body. “I’m going to make you come in my mouth,” she informs him as she maneuvers to trace the base of his cock with her tongue. He pulses again at the words — at the image and at Skye’s slightly vulgar language and at the heat of the moment.

“What about —”

“That can wait. I think you need this right now. Besides, these are all firsts for you, right? We should take our time.”

He doesn’t answer, just breathes deeply against the continued feeling of Skye’s mouth so close to him. The truth is that, in the past, he’d always have picked the option that let him put the focus on his partner — there’s something intensely vulnerable about lying here like this, something that he’s never fully enjoyed before.

“Coulson?”

He swallows and looks down at her. It’s sort of a marvel how _different_ everything feels with her, and he’s still not sure whether it’s _her_ or whether it really is that he’s been reborn, been remade, that he’s someone slightly new.

“Whatever you want.”

She frowns at him.

“This is about you, remember?”

“No, it’s about you showing me what I like.”

Skye’s frown turns into a smile — and a sort of evil smile, at that.

“You’re going to like this,” she promises, and then her mouth lands at the base of his cock, so that her tongue traces of the length in a slow lick before she parts her lips and sucks him inside. She takes him deep, keeping the underside of his cock pressed to her tongue so that the whole slow downward stroke is amazingly tight. Even when he hits the back of her throat, she doesn’t stop, just swallows around him, and he clenches his hands into tight fists by his head at the sensation.

He groans, loud and low, as she starts to move her mouth over him — so slowly that it’s almost maddening.

The urge to touch her is nearly overwhelming, and he raises his hands up to grip the headboard in an attempt to stop himself. Which is when her lips slip off, and he grunts her name in disappointment.

“You’re being so good,” Skye praises him, and she brings her hand to stroke him, only to stop herself before her gloves make contact with his skin. She covers over her momentary awkwardness well, but he sees the trace of nerves in her eyes.

He drops his right hand down at that in order to cup her cheek, offer some sort of reassurance that everything she has done — everything she is — is exactly what he wants.

She smiles at him and then lowers her mouth back down, but he stops her, hand sliding from her cheek back into her hair.

“Take off your clothes?”

“Are you going to be able to keep being good if I do?”

He swallows and shudders at the question.

“Yes,” he promises.

Instead of answering, Skye just stands up and starts to strip. She’s wearing a white button down shirt of the style she’s come to favor, and she’s slow — deliberate — in popping each button of the shirt as she holds his gaze. He keeps his eyes on her for as long as he can — until her shirt is open and the beige lace of her bra is visible on the inner curves of her breasts.

It’s like he wills her to open the shirt all the way, to shrug it off, and his mouth drops open as her barely-covered chest comes into view. She cups her breasts over her bra, putting on a little bit of a show for him, before her hands fall to her jeans. He watches as she strips them off, too, so she’s naked in a matching set of lacy underwear.

And for some reason, the thought that she wears such feminine things under her button downs and combat gear is a huge turn on.

He swallows against his own lust — against the throbbing in his cock — as she strips off her bra and panties, revealing more perfect, bare skin.

“I’m going to leave on the gloves,” she tells him, and he doesn’t exactly understand what’s in her voice, something like fear or maybe defiance.

“Whatever you want.”

“That way if I lose control, I can at least channel it —”

“Whatever you want,” he tells her again. “I just want _you_.”

“Even if I haven’t quite figured out how to fly very well yet?” She smiles, a little teasing and a little like she’s really worried she’s failed him.

His eyes scan down her naked body appreciatively.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen either way.”

It makes her smile and sort of pose for him, hips swayed to the left, and he swallows as he watches her. She’s _beyond_ beautiful, and his palms itch to run over every inch of exposed skin; it’s enough to make him forget that he’s a little nervous.

“You want to touch, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he groans.

“You can touch after,” she promises. “Let me do this for you first.”

When she crawls back up between his legs, he feels even more hypersensitive, especially at the sensation of her breasts dragging against his skin, brushing his thighs and then his cock before she settles into place.

“Skye,” he groans her name in anticipation before her mouth even touches him again, and she’s right. He needs this. There’s no way he can handle sex in his current state; no way he’s capable of more than coming at the barest touch.

Which is exactly what happens.

Her mouth closes over him, and it’s amazingly, blindingly good.

“God, Skye, I'm so close.”

“Hmm,” she sort of sighs around him, and he imagines she's letting him know that she's well aware of that fact. And then her hand joins her mouth on his cock. She’s still careful of her gloves, so it's just her fingertips holding him steady as she sets a fast pace, almost pulling his orgasm out of his body.

He comes bucking up against her, unable to keep his hips still, but she just moves with him, fingers on his cock keeping him from pushing too far into her mouth. Her other hand strokes his thighs lovingly, and the scratch of the fabric adds another layer of sensation.

“Skye, Skye, Skye,” he calls her name in an endless loop as she keeps going, keeps sucking his cock and moving her lips and trailing soft fingers down his thighs.

When she finally pulls her mouth off of him, he’s panting for breath, reduced to a groaning pile of nerves.

She looks smug — he would say _annoyingly_ smug, except that his whole body still tingles from the strength of his orgasm.

“Skye,” he sighs her name again as he collapses backwards, completely spent, and welcomes the weight of her when she curls up next to him.

“I like the way you say my name,” she whispers into his neck while sliding her leg over his.

“I like saying your name,” he agrees and runs a hand down her back, across soft skin and perfect curves. She lets him explore her like this — interested but lazy, groping for his own pleasure and not for her — until she’s clearly too turned on to handle more, almost grinding herself against his hip. He can feel the heat of her against his skin, and it cuts through his own satiation enough that he wants to touch her, to please her.

He wants to make her say his name like he said hers, wants to hear it as she comes.

It clearly surprises her when he rolls her onto her back and positions himself over her, but she goes with it easily, especially when he kisses her deeply, tongue sliding over hers so he can taste himself.

“Coulson,” she sighs in pleasure as he runs his lips down her chin, and he pauses.

“Phil.”

She blinks at him for a moment, like she doesn’t understand him.

“I want to hear you say it,” he confesses. “I’ve always wanted to hear you say it.”

“Then why did you tell me not to call you that?”

He swallows and looks at her guiltily, remembering how much he wanted her to call him that _even back at the beginning_ , and Skye laughs.

“You wanted me all the way back then?”

“It was inappropriate,” he acknowledges, but Skye shakes her head.

“No, if anything it’s more inappropriate now. At least back then I was only an outside consultant.”

Coulson lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh.

“Point taken.”

He kisses her, just a light brush of lips against lips, and drops his forehead against hers.

“Phil,” Skye tries out, looking sort of skeptical. “It’s just...I didn’t fall in love with _Phil_.”

Her words make his heart stutter in his chest — neither of them have mentioned _love_ yet — but she seems to take his sudden silence as a bad thing.

“I’ll get used to it,” she promises, eyes wide like she’s afraid she’s offended him.

Coulson kisses her hard, rough lips and urgent tongue and hands groping inexpertly down her body. When he pulls back, she’s panting for breath below him.

“I love you,” he promises her before dropping his head to kiss down her neck — eager, wet kisses with too much teeth and too much tongue that still somehow drive her wild beneath him.

“Coulson,” she moans his name as his mouth approaches her breasts and sighs when his lips wrap around a nipple. He manages to slow himself down — to remind himself that he wants to make this good for her, that it’s about more than just his desire to touch and lick every part of her.

Of course, he thinks he can make those two goals line up really well.

He takes his time at her breasts, finding the way she likes to feel his tongue circle her nipples, the way she likes his fingers to tease her into tight, hard peaks.

She makes no attempt to keep her hands off of him, and the sensation of her fingers in his hair, her fingernails tracing soft lines across his scalp, makes him shiver and moan against her skin as he kisses his way down her belly.

“Coulson,” she whispers his name as he approaches the puckered scars on her abdomen. “ _Phil_.”

The sound of his first name, whimpered in pleasure like that, hits him unexpectedly hard, lodges in his groin, and he’s surprised to feel that he’s already hard again.

Maybe it’s the promise that he doesn’t have to compartmentalize anymore; he can always be Phil with her now that there isn’t a fake line he needs to keep in tact.

And maybe she actually _did_ fall in love with Phil, but he never let it be acknowledged.

Their eyes lock, and she smiles with more understanding than she can rationally have about this. But then, Skye has always understood him too well, understood him probably more than he has understood himself.

“Phil,” she sighs again, and he pulls back in order to spread her legs, in order to open her up to him.

He dives forward with too much enthusiasm, but luckily Skye doesn’t seem to mind. Eager fingers part her wide, and his tongue makes a slow figure eight, pushing against her entrance before focusing on her clit.

She bucks her hips against him, hand gripping his hair even though she does nothing to guide him or even hold him in place. The truth is that he doesn’t mind it _at all_ , he he likes the feel of her touching him as he drives her arousal higher.

He’s surprised by how quiet she is, though. For some reason, when he’s imagined this before (and he has, he’s imagined it plenty, even when it was wildly inappropriate to do so), he’s imagined her loud, wild, uninhibited as she is in day to day life.

But the soft pants and muffled moans are still unbearably arousing. And every time he points the tip of his tongue in a hard upwards flick on her clit, she groans his name so that the noise of it is even hotter.

She finally comes when he pushes a finger inside of her, so that he can feel the spasms around his digit as she pants his name in a half-whispered chorus. He keeps going, working his tongue and crooking his finger inside of her, until she collapses backwards on the bed, right arm flung across her face.

“Coulson,” she sighs his name as her left hand brushes blindly through his hair from where his cheek rests on her thigh. “You’re really good at that.”

“You wanna go again?”

Skye laughs at that, but he was definitely not joking.

“Are you… Can you…?”

“Yeah,” he answers, climbing up her body so that he can press his erection against her hip as he kisses her.

He wants to say he’s surprised when she suddenly rolls him onto his back, but he’s not. He goes with it, sprawling out underneath her as she positions herself on top of him.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” he agrees adamantly. “Do we need a condom?”

“No,” she dismisses, and then he can feel himself brushing against the wet heat of her. It’s easy at first as she sinks down, and then she groans in a way that almost sounds like pain.

“Okay?”

“You’re really big, you know that?”

He doesn’t respond — it’s more embarrassing that flattering at the moment — and presses his thumb against her clitoris.

“Yes,” she sighs at the pressure as he pushes against the nub, tight upwards circles as she sinks down all the way. Once he’s seated all the way inside, she groans, a long low sound of pleasure that would probably make him come by itself if he hadn’t already come once.

He’s never felt anything so tight and hot, never felt his cock squeezed like this before, and his eyes cross a little as she adjusts herself on top of him.

She starts rocking slowly, and Coulson just watches her move above him — every bounce of her breasts, every shudder that runs down her spine, every chill of pleasure that makes her skin pucker with goosebumps. He’s not sure how much time passes until he starts to move with her, thrusting up in counterpoint so that she lets out a tiny satisfied grunt every time.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispers, suddenly dissatisfied with the distance between them.

Skye’s hips stutter to a stop, and she leans down to suck his lower lip into her mouth.

The whole angle changes as she plasters her naked chest against his so that her breasts press against him. And while her tongue makes a slow, careful exploration of his mouth, her hips start moving again in slow pulses that he meets so that his cock barely moves inside of her.

The intimacy of it is good — amazing — but he’s still surprised when he feels Skye start to clench around him as her forehead drops to his shoulder.

“Fuck,” she whispers quietly, “Coulson.”

He keeps moving — slowly, just how it was working for her — even when her hips stall out against his, and he just enjoys the feeling of her body on top of his, of the fact that he gets to have her this way.

When she relaxes, he takes the opportunity to turn them so he’s perched over her, his cock still buried inside of her.

“Skye,” he calls her attention, wanting to make sure she’s okay with this.

“Yes,” she urges him forward by wrapping her legs around his hips, and he falls into a faster rhythm.

The biggest shock is how loud she is as she hitches her legs up higher, squeezing around him. Panted breaths and whispery moans become fully vocalized, and every sound of her pleasure makes him move harder, faster inside of her until he’s barely in control of himself.

“Gonna come,” he grunts against the side of her face, and is answered by her foot pressing against his butt.

“Yes. Phil.”

His name in her mouth is what does him in, leaves coming inside of her as his hips continue in overdrive against her. He’s half-aware of her still moving underneath him, of her reaching orgasm again — no thanks to him, really, as she moves herself.

They collapse together in a sweaty heap, and he can’t remember the last time he was so deeply, thoroughly satisfied. Lazily, he kisses her again, open smiling mouths and sweaty skin, and then drops his head to her shoulder.

“That was good,” he whispers against her shoulder. “Probably the best first time anyone’s ever had.”

It makes Skye laugh, a languid sound as she snuggles against him.

“For me, too,” she sighs. “I haven’t done that in so long…”

“Like,” he cuts her off, “since before every cell in your body was transformed by alien technology?”

“Yes,” she answers, slowly, like she’s only just making the leap with him.

“Then you’re as much reborn as I am,” he claims, making her smile and lean into a kiss as they roll together, so he ends up on his back.

It surprises him how much this seems to mean to her — this idea of being firsts, of sharing this _virginity_ thing that’s always been meaningless to him. Maybe it _shouldn’t_ surprise him, though, because for all the disappointments in her life, Skye is a sentimental person. As though every bad thing that has ever happened to her has only made her cling harder to her knowledge that good things happen, too, has only made her more appreciative of everything she _does_ have.

He’s marveled at this before, but it continues to be humbling — how _good_ she is, how beautiful inside and out.

“This was a really good first time,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Do you feel like the most amazing person in the world?” He asks the question quietly and then kisses her.

“Yeah,” she answers, a quiet sigh. "Do you?"

He grins down at her as she curls into his chest, and he knows it shows on his face too much — May has already teased him this week for looking like a besotted fool — but he can't help it.

"Yes."


End file.
